Cross Guard Tribulation
by Target22
Summary: ""You're here to kill me," Link stated. The man nodded. "I am," he said evenly. "I rather wish you had stayed far away from this land. Unfortunately your years of absence do not absolve you of your crimes." The man sighed. "That being said, I was hoping we could speak as gentlemen before we shed blood." Link shrugged. "Why not?" A smile lit up the stranger's face. "Excellent.""
1. Chapter 1: Like Gentlemen

The tavern was filled with the typical bustling, rough-housing, and of course drinking. Ernest, the bartender, considered his good fortune that he would be filling his coffers again. The old hairy man leaned back against his cabinets surveying his patrons whilst cleaning a glass. Two dozen of the customers were usuals. Hardworking men who had earned themselves a tall cold stout at an affordable price. The rest were travelers passing from Termina to Absistus or vice versa.

"Ernie!" cried Tomy, one of the regulars, "gimme a drink for my new friend here." The barrel chested man patted his "new friend" on the back.

Ernest pushed off of the cabinet and reached under the bar for a bottle. "You gonna pay for this or is it goin' onta yer never-ending tab?"

Tomy pointed at Ernest and simultaneously winked while clicking his tongue. Ernest shook his head, but poured a glass for the stranger anyway. Tomy nudged his near empty glass forward ready for the expected refill.

"So what's yer name friend?" he asked, succumbing to his worst/best customer's prompting.

"Marcus Brutus," the man said lifting his glass to thank the generous bartender.

Ernest raised an eyebrow. "A noble?" He glanced at Tomy for confirmation. The man was already hidden behind his upturned glass. "What brings you to my humble tavern Lord Brutus?"

The man smiled revealing perfectly white teeth. "Not a lord, Master Ernie, just a humble Hyrulian Knight."

Ernest leaned over the counter to see that there was indeed a decorated pommel protruding from the man's belt.

"Well, Ser Brutus, what misfortune befell ya that you came across Tomy?" It was not irregular for knights of the surrounding kingdoms to spend the evening at The Cross Guard. It was, however, irregular for one to arrive alone and without some blusterous announcement.

Not only was Ser Brutus's entourage and squire nowhere to be found, he wasn't wearing any armor. As far as Ernest could see the man wasn't wearing anything besides a simple brown traveler's tunic, his sword, and a dagger.

Brutus chuckled kindly. "I consider our meeting good fortune," he patted Tomy on the shoulder in a familiar manner. "If it were not for this fine gentleman I would be stranded somewhere outside Termina with nary a clue where to go."

"You see?" Tomy asked with a drunken grin. "I'm not but a kind, hardworkin' gentleman. Plowin' fields, choppin' wood, and lendin' my aid ta knights and nobles." He clumsily toasted the knight's glass, which was still sitting on the counter.

"Where are you headed then?" the bartender asked. He figured it best to ignore Tomy, lest he cross some boundary and try the knight's patience.

Brutus lifted his glass and took the smallest of sips. Setting the glass back down he answered, "There was no set location. I am supposed to meet an old friend tonight. Unfortunately poor communication has left me unsure of the setting." He tilted his head towards Tomy. "Master Tomy assured me that any traveler within a one hundred mile radius would stop here in your fine establishment."

Ernest bowed slightly. "You flatter me and mine establishment Ser. Would you like a table while you wait on your friend?"

Brutus waved the bartender off. "That isn't necessary."

"Nonsense! Richard, Sakon!" he called across the room. Two patrons looked up from their conversation. "Give yer table to Ser Brutus 'ere!"

With hushed grumbling the two peasants stood from their seats and meandered over to the far end of the counter. Brutus stood up and offered the men a nod.

"Thank you." The knight reached into his tunic and pulled out two red rupees. He tossed them to the uprooted men. "For your inconvenience." Then he retrieved one more rupee and tossed it to the bartender. Ernest's eyes almost leapt from his head as he held the titian-orange rupee. "For Master Tomy's tab."

Ernest tried to mumble some sort of appreciation but the knight cut him off. "If you see a man in a green tunic, probably carrying a broadsword across his back, would you send him to my table? He'll answer to Link."

Still stunned by the two hundred rupee deposit the bartender could only nod stupidly.

"Thank you kindly Master Ernie." With that Marcus Brutus carried his drink over to the table and sat down alone.

"How's about another drink?" Tomy asked, oblivious to the transaction or the knight's absence. Ernest tucked the rupee into his pocket quickly.

"Tomy, you old scoundrel. You drink for free tonight."

* * *

Link could hear the clamoring and jovial processions of the pub all the way from the stable.

"Sit tight girl," he said quietly as he rubbed the neck his friend and steed. "I'll make sure you get some oats before you sleep." Epona gave an affectionate whinny. Their day had been long, no doubt she felt she deserved such a reward.

"Good girl," he said giving her one last pat. He stepped around her, closed the door to her rented stall, then headed for the tavern. He wasn't much in the mood for alcohol but he hoped the kitchen was open so he could feed his stomach and maybe buy some supplies. If he could avoid having to turn in towards Termina he would, even if it cost him some extra rupees.

Just before Link reached the entrance he brought his hand up to his face and felt his beard. It had been months since he'd seen a mirror, and weeks since he'd shaven. He bathed regularly but still, he hoped he would not look like a crazed man from the mountains.

Warm air and a thick scent of man and alcohol greeted Link as he opened the door. Those closest to the entrance glanced at him, eyes lingering on his sword and shield, but paid him little attention. _Good,_ Link thought, _the less attention I draw this close to Hyrule, the better._ Encouraged by the lack of change in the atmosphere the man garbed in green strode up to the counter.

"Oi, yer friend 's over there, Ser Link."

Link froze mid-step, eyes widened. He could feel his heart triple its pace.

 _Thirty-five men. Eight too intoxicated to fight. Twenty with daggers. Seven with swords. Two hundred-fifty pound bouncer in the far corner. Two exits and a staircase. Bartender's heartrate is ninety-three beats per minute. Five men are looking at me now. None of them have hands on their weapons._

The information flooded Link's mind in less than three seconds. With no immediate danger he decided to act collected until he could identify the threat.

"Have we met?" Link asked the bartender, the man who had called Link by his name.

The man had a round face, bushy eyebrows, crows' feet on the sides of his eyes, and a thick neck. His jugular vein could be seen pulsing calmly on the man's exposed nape. Under a brown apron, a fairly clean cotton shirt and a sufficient layer of fat was a reserve of muscle, built by years of carrying barrels, moving furniture, and tending to horses. His hands were calloused and his knuckles were scarred. He had put an end to more than one fight in this bar. He was also right handed.

"Nay but yer friend came in an hour or so before ye," the man explained. He was rubbing a glass clean with a tan cotton rag. "Said he s'pected you'd be arrivin' t'night."

With the rag in his right hand he pointed towards a table forty-two feet away from the counter, seven feet from the wall. The man sitting at the table was one of the five who were looking at Link. One of the twenty with a dagger. One of the seven with a sword.

"Ta Ser Marcus Brutus!" one of the too-intoxicated-to-fight men cheered. Two more too-intoxicated-to-fight men repeated the first man's cheer.

 _I know that name,_ Link thought with dread. This was bad. This was disastrous!

Link cleared his throat. "Thank you, friend." The bartender nodded then proceeded to follow Link with his eyes as he left the counter.

Ser Marcus Brutus's heartrate quickened from sixty beats per minute to seventy-five as Link approached.

"My dear friend," Link said coolly. Years of training helped him keep his breathing and pulse in check.

The stranger nodded his head. "Take a seat, Link." He gestured to the empty chair.

Mind working a million miles a second, Link took the offer. Slowly he unbuckled his sheath, and set the shield and broadsword on the table in front of him, pommel of his weapon facing him.

"You're here to kill me," Link stated.

The man nodded. "I am," he said evenly. "I rather wish you had stayed far away from this land. Unfortunately your years of absence do not absolve you of your crimes." Without taking his eyes off of Link, Brutus brought his half-empty glass to his mouth and took a tiny sip. Setting it down he said, "That being said, I am a huge fan of yours. I was hoping we could speak as gentlemen before we shed blood."

Link gestured for the bartender. "I don't see why not."

A smile lit up the stranger's face. "Excellent."

* * *

 **Author's Note: This is going to be a short story. Hope you all enjoy.**


	2. Chapter 2: Third Crime's the Charm

Jokes and exaggerated stories bounced around the bar freely. It was clear nobody knew how close they were to the reaper's scythe.

Link leaned back in his chair and interlocked his fingers, resting his hands on the table. The posture looked relaxed but it kept his hands near his weapon and his body farther away from his enemy.

"How did you find me?" he asked after the tavern wench left with his order.

Marcus smiled. He was not fooled by the outlaw's relaxed posture. "The first time I found you I'd heard reports of a man single-handedly defeating a golem in Northern Absistus," Marcus answered. The man spoke with a voice that was friendly and intelligible. "There can only be a few dozen bodies in the realm that could achieve such a feat. I wagered it was none other than Hyrule's Hero of Time. I shared my opinion with the royal court, and they must have seen some merit to the claim because they sent a team of assassins."

Link nodded. With his right hand, his non-sword hand, he reached up and stroked his beard contemplatively. "I came across group of very well trained men who could fit such a description." The serving girl arrived with Link's drink. Without a word to her he reached inside his tunic with his right hand and pulled out a blue rupee.

"That could have just been a coincidence though." Link brought the mead up to his lips and took a small sip.

Marcus brought his hands up and shrugged. "Stranger things have happened. We never heard from those men again. The council declared them dead after a year's absence."

Link nodded again as a gentle grin tugged at the side of his lips. "It WAS a peaceful year after I left Absistus."

"Well deserved peace, no doubt." Marcus's eyes were slowly moving from Link, to the hilt of his sword, to his hand.

Calculating how fast it would take Link to draw his weapon, no doubt.

The knight continued after his brief pause, "It was not until another two years that I found you the second time. You see, a friend of mine told me about his trip through the Hara Desert."

A scowl spread across Link's face.

"He told me he came across a city that was once cursed by a djinn, then was blessed by that same djinn after a man in a green tunic defeated it. How many people in the world do you think could stand toe-to-toe against a magic wielding djinn?"

Link shrugged. "I don't know," he lied. Currently alive, there were exactly eight. Two were sitting in the same room at the same table.

"Less than a dozen," Marcus answered. He squinted his eyes slightly, searching Link's face for some emotion.

"A sorcerer appeared while I was traveling through the western deserts." Link didn't bother hiding his frown. It was a painful memory. "He nearly leveled that city you speak of in his attempt to kill me."

Marcus sighed sympathetically. "I was against the council sending Mashadou. I would have met you then myself were I not still in training at the time."

Link waved the memory off and took another sip of his drink. "And what of your training, Marcus Brutus?" he asked when he'd set his glass down. "Tales of your exploits echo from Faron Woods to Absistus to Oceana to the Oocca."

"You flatter me," the knight tilted his head just enough that Link would say he was bowing. This man was careful. Careful and calculating. "But my exploits were only louder than your own. Not more grand."

Both men paused and glanced at the entrance as two bodies burst through the door. At first Link thought they were shouting at one another but then he realized they were only singing very, very, poorly.

 _Thirty seven men. Ten too intoxicated to fight._

"What to you, Ser Brutus, is the difference between louder and grander?" Link asked.

"Recognition is, essentially, the term that encompasses my definition of a loud deed," Marcus explained. "Because of my role as a knight, every accomplishment of mine is proclaimed by the court and announced and cried to everyone who will listen." Marcus leaned forward, hands innocently tucked close to his body. Link's pointer finger twitched.

"Everyone knows I slew the Sea Wyrm because King Yusef insisted the whole realm know."

A nod from the bearded outlaw. "I recall he used your achievement to negotiate free passage for his merchants through the docks."

"But nobody knows that you slew the demon Bongo Bongo," Marcus continued without acknowledging Link's comment. "Most people don't even know the monster existed. Even more incredulous," he was becoming animated, growing excited while he talked. It occurred to Link that this young knight may in fact be a huge fan of his. "Only a handful of people know it was you who defeated the deity Majora and kept the moon from falling. The moon!"

Link smiled despite the gravity of his situation. All these years of service to the greater good and he had only received the most humble amount of praise. It felt good to be recognized. Even if it was by the Demon Slayer himself.

"You slew Beelzebub," Link stated coolly. To be honest he wasn't one hundred percent sure that was the truth, but he suspected it. The statement seemed to calm the knight down.

"You would have made short work of him yourself," Marcus said quietly. Although he was staring at Link, the Hero of Time suspected the man's vision was elsewhere. Recalling what had to have been a hellish ordeal, no doubt.

Link said nothing, just took another sip of his mead. The two sat there quietly for four minutes and thirty-seven seconds until the heroic criminal spoke up again.

"How did you find me this time?" he asked.

Marcus shook his head gently. "You should not have come so close to Hyrule. One of the elderly knights recognized you while you were in Termina."

"It's been eighteen years since I last passed through Termina," Link countered. "And twenty since I left Hyrule. How did he recognize me?"

With his middle finger the knight tapped the table twice in rapid succession, paused, then tapped it again. He did this multiple times while holding Link's gaze.

"Epona," Link answered when he understood. He should have known.

"There are not many horses like your old mare. In fact, I cannot say that I have ever seen a second horse with such a red coat and white mane."

"She IS unique."

Marcus grinned. "Sticking to a monochromatic wardrobe did you no favors either."

Link shrugged for a second time since this conversation started. "I like the color."

"The color of balance and harmony." Marcus raised his glass as he spoke, as if toasting Link. "Green is said to create an equilibrium between the head and the heart. An emotionally positive color that also represents nature and growth."

"You sound like a painter or poet, Ser Brutus."

Marcus chuckled softly. "In another life perhaps." Both men brought their cups up simultaneously and took a sip. Their eyes, not for a second, leaving the other's.

"When it starts, how will it begin?" Link asked. Despite himself he was becoming impatient.

The knight's dark eyebrows raised in surprise at his "friend's" boldness.

Link leaned two inches forward sliding his left hand closer to his weapon, and his right hand towards his glass. "I have no doubt concerning your prowess with that longsword," Link said as he moved. "But I am curious how you intend to use it properly while seated, and in such tight quarters." Link continued even as Marcus was opening his mouth. "Even if you were the fastest swordsman in the world my broadsword would beat yours out of its sheath. Your dagger would allow you a chance to parry, but you are still trapped in a room with thirty-eight bodies, twelve tables, forty-three chairs, and a twenty foot long counter." Marcus closed his mouth and waited patiently for Link to finish. A respectful, intrigued look filled his face.

"Anything other than a thrust risks entangling your longsword, and I doubt you are bold enough to rely only on your dagger against my broadsword." Link was staring intently into Marcus's eyes, as if, if he paid enough attention, the answer would reveal itself. "You know this though. That means one of two things will happen. An ally of yours will arrive and the two or three of you will engage me. Or," Link squinted hard at the man. "You are prepared to take hostages and slay innocent lives in order to subdue me."

A pained smile made its way onto the young knight's face. "I will tell you honestly, if you will tell me why the royal council has sentenced you to death."

Link blinked in surprise. "You don't know?" He leaned back an inch. "You are prepared to carry out your orders without knowing my crimes?"

"It has never been my place to question the orders of the king or his council."

Link returned to his original posture but with his hands in their modified position. He waited fifty-three seconds before opening his mouth.

"I have been charged with three crimes. Three that I know of." Link held up three fingers on his right hand. "Stealing a relic from the royal family, violating a sacred law," Link paused, reluctant to utter the words.

Ser Marcus Brutus said them for him. "And the murder of Queen Zelda."


	3. Chapter 3: Yer being dramatic Ernest

It was two hours until closing time yet Ernest wasn't the slightest bit tired. He was short one of his serving girls, Sara had come down with a fever the day before, so the owner was working twice as much as usual, but his spirits were still high. With the two hundred rupee from the knight burning in his pocket Ernest wondered if he'd even be able to sleep tonight.

For what must have been the twentieth time the burly man glanced over to the table where the knight and his green bearded friend sat. Ser Brutus had gotten excited about something a few moments ago but now the two were sitting quietly without saying a word. Ernest thought this was very odd.

Deem, the two hundred-fifty pound bouncer, walked over to the counter and rested his elbow on its surface.

"Whatcha make o' them two?" Ernest's nephew and employee asked.

The bartender shrugged, swapped his clean glass for a dirty one, then said, "They're knights. Ol' friends from what Ser Brutus says."

Deem shook his head. "I don't think the green one's a knight." He reached up and rubbed his stubbly chin with his hand. "Knights aint allowed ta have such unkempt beards."

Ernest snorted. "Boy, what do you know 'bout knights and their kempt beards?"

Deem shrugged. "When I squired for Ser Nicholas he used ta whip me if'n I din't shave. Said no respectable knight walks 'round with a beard, let alone stubble."

"Hmmm." The boy had a point. Ernest knew his nephew had indeed been a squire for four years. If only he hadn't been such a late bloomer one of his masters may have kept him on to eventually become a knight. When his last master had released him, Ernest was sure the boy was going to break down in tears. That had been thirteen years ago, when Deem was a scrawny fifteen year old lad. Now the six foot four giant was a force to be reckoned with.

Disgruntled by his failure to become a knight the boy had joined the militia as a simple soldier. When that proved too boring for the boy with lofty dreams Ernest had heard from his sister that the boy was traveling north to Absistus to work as a mercenary. When Deen finally came back home he had a small fortune, a pregnant foreign wife, and an entirely new physique.

Whatever he had done up north, it had been more than enough excitement for the lad. He purchased some land on the eastern edge of Faron Woods, built himself a cottage, then asked his dear old uncle for a job at The Cross Guard. Every now and then, when the liquor was flowing and his wife and child were home in bed, Deem would tell one of his stories about the work he and his crew had done. For the boy's sake, Ernest hoped the stories were exaggerated.

"Do ya think you could take'em?" Ernest asked eyeing his nephew's broad shoulders. A two-handed sword was visible behind one of those mountains. Years ago the blade had had its use, but now it was mostly used to discourage rowdy patrons. Even then, the cudgel hanging from Deem's side had that work covered.

The bouncer twisted his mouth to the side. "If they were regular Hyrulian knights, sure, maybe." He furrowed his brow. "But I don't think these're regular knights."

"How's 'at? I mean besides tha' green one's beard?"

Deem turned his head and looked his uncle square in the eyes. In a low voice he said, "That one with the black hair, Ser Brutus? He's got the eyes o' a killer."

Ernest glanced, suddenly nervous, at the two men who were now speaking again. He was too far to see the generous knight's eyes. Had he seen a killer's eyes? Surely Ser Brutus had been nothing but kind to Tomy, Richard and Sakon.

Sensing his uncle's doubt Deem continued. "Tell me, Uncle Ernie, when you have a drink with yer pal Matt, do ye set yer dagger on the table between you two? Do ye hold eye contact during yer entire visit?"

The owner's bushy eyebrows huddled over his eyes as he frowned. "What do ya think they're doin' then?"

In an even lower voice, "I don't think that Link fella was expecting Ser Brutus," Deem said. "I think yer friend Tomy just helped a hunter snare his prey."

"And the murder of Queen Zelda."

Deem, Ernest, and several patrons turned their attention to the knight and his strange outburst. The bouncer shot one last wary look at his boss then stood up and headed over to his original spot by the entrance.

Ernest shuffled over a few feet and glanced under his counter. His crossbow was still there. All it needed was to be cranked back and loaded with one of the bolts resting next to it.

"Ahh," he said to himself, "yer being dramatic Ernest." Or so he hoped.

* * *

Link winced as the words escaped his "friend's" mouth a little too loudly. He needn't even look around to know more than a few heads had turned their way. He allowed five seconds to pass before deciding not to draw his sword from its sheath.

Marcus Brutus seemed unperturbed by the curious looks. His face was emotionless and his dark eyes bore into the sacrilegious murderous thief who shared his table. Behind the bearded outlaw's head, in the knight's peripherals he could see that the bouncer, who'd been having a hushed discussion with the owner, was moving away from the counter back towards his post where his gaze would likely be lingering for longer intervals on the duo. Easily the second most dangerous man in the bar. Third if Marcus included himself.

"I was leagues away when the Queen killed herself," Link said quietly. His voice was even but his eyes were sad.

Marcus pushed his now empty glass forward so that it slid halfway between he and Link. "It is no secret that she killed herself because of you." His voice was stern, but not angry. Not as passionate as one would expect from a devout servant and knight. His emotions, if he had any honest ones, were well kept.

"Impa wrote me months before the Queen's end. She wrote that Queen Zelda had become ill, and was becoming delirious—"

"She was smitten," Marcus interrupted. "Even during her marriage to King Yusef her handmaidens say she waited on the balcony for you." Marcus dropped his hands onto his hips, far too close to the hilts of his sword and dagger. "She named her daughter 'Navi' despite His Highness's protests. Had the child been born a boy, he would have no doubt been named Link."

Anger was beginning to rear its head within Link's chest. "I had not had any contact with Queen Zelda since I left Hyrule twenty years ago."

Marcus brought his hands back up, weaponless, and planted his palms flat on the table. "So this sheds light on your second crime, no? Only eight people could truthfully recall your adventures in the future. King Yusef has little doubt that you and the Queen partook in an unholy affair whilst you gallivanted through time."

 _Control yourself Link._

"Did any of the eight confirm your king's suspicions?" Link placed his own hands back on the table. His right hand was touching the condensation of his almost empty glass while his left hand rested five and a quarter inches away from the pommel of his sword.

The corner of the knight's mouth twitched. "Not a one. The king had Impa and Master Rauru executed for treason."

"I cannot imagine Impa accepting such a sentence well." His voice was starting to lose its neutral tone.

Marcus blinked. "I was ordered to carry out the Sheikah's sentence. There was little acceptance involved."

 _Control yourself Link!_

"Your king is a tyrant," Link growled.

"Better a tyrant who commands than a saint who cowers." The knight's friendly demeanor and voice had vanished. His relaxed posture had been replaced with that of a serpent, coiled and ready to strike.

The end was coming.

For one of them.

"So how does it start, Ser Brutus the Demon Slayer?" Link wished in that moment that he could spew venom instead of just words.

Impa's murderer took in a long breath. "As soon as I confirm that you are carrying the royal family's relic I will draw my longsword and lash out at you," he stated. Link didn't move. "I can only assume your honed reflexes will save you," his eyelids dropped over his shark-eyes quickly then retreated to their home under the brow. "But the gentleman to your left will not be so fortunate."

A sharp inhale from Link. There were too many people in the tavern, and Marcus was too dangerous to try and save everyone. Innocents would die.

Link brought his glass to his mouth, downed the last of the alcohol, then set the glass on the table directly in front of him. Free of the glass his right hand reached inside his tunic, grasped his most prized possessions, then brought it out into the candlelit tavern for the Demon Slayer to see.

Zelda's Ocarina.

He put it back without a word, clamped his jaw tight, and looked at Marcus expectantly.

"Well," Marcus said without moving. "Shall we begin?"

* * *

Tomy stumbled outside the tavern, nearly falling towards the spinning earth.

"C'mon Sur Bwut's!" he slurred to nobody in particular. "Lemme show you home an you can sleep wif my wife!" He guffawed at his own joke and almost fell face down into the earth again.

He looked around trying to gather his bearings. He was sure he could figure out his way home if only everything would hold still for a moment. He could see several wide-eyed folks staring at him from their doorways.

"Hey don't jus stand thur, help ol' -hiccup- Tomy out."

One of the folks whinnied at him.

"Oh," he said beginning to grasp how truly intoxicated he was. "Yerall jus horsies!" He blinked several times trying to clear his vision. No, he had been right. There was a person there. They were feeding something shiny to a red horse.

"Ernie'll givya oats fer yer pony." Tomy wasn't sure why he was sharing that. Maybe that Ser Brutus had just put him in a helpful mood.

A shrill cry came from the red horse as the stranger forced the shiny object into its mouth. Tomy shook his clouded head then gasped. The shiny object had been a short sword that was thrust through the red mare's neck. As the figure withdrew his blade the horse collapsed against its stall door.

"Why. . . why'd ya do that for?" Tomy asked backpedaling in a panic. He slipped on the uneven, wobbling earth and fell to his butt. The stranger flashed a demonic smile then stepped forward so he was standing over the drunken fool.

"Ser Brutus!" he cried over his shoulder. "Ernie!"

* * *

 **Author's Note: Only one more chapter. Would love to hear what you guys think before I unveil the ending. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4: Last Words

_You can't trust his eyes. You can lie with yours, he can lie with his._

 _Watch his hands, those won't lie._

 _Longsword on his right hip, parrying dagger on his left.._

 _With the scabbard fastened to his hip he doesn't have enough room to draw the longsword with his right hand._

 _He can draw the dagger with either hand._

 _He'll push backwards off the table to get space to draw his sword._

 _Press the attack then._

 _Force him into the wall before his sword comes out._

 _Throw the mug to distract the dagger, hurdle the table, let sword come free of its sheath, strike hard and fast._

 _You need to kill this one, Link._

Silence.

This was a rarity for Link.

In his first, and technically seventh, year as the Hero of Time his companion Navi had never allowed the boy a moment of peace.

"Listen!" she'd demand.

"Lookout!" she'd cry.

"Watch its patterns and strike when its shield is down," she'd instruct.

At the age of ten (and seventeen) Link had managed to save Hyrule and defeat Ganondorf. Twenty years his senior, Ganondorf had been a powerful sorcerer, a renowned general, and a horrific warrior. Yet Link had prevailed with the help of his fairy's instructions and wisdom.

When Navi left, Link thought he could learn to appreciate the oblivious silence. His ignorance had left him robbed, cursed, and damned by a deity with an imp puppet. The cataclysm that ensued had taught Link to replace the silence left by his companion's absence with aberrant situational awareness. But once he'd lit that torch, he couldn't put it out.

Except in moments like these.

In moments where every cell in his body was focused on the threat that sat fifty-four inches away. Link could no longer hear the drunken lullabies of the six men across the room. He could no longer taste the remnants of mead on his tongue. He could no longer smell the smoke of the torches that adorned the walls. He could not even see the tavern wench who was only three feet and seven inches to his left.

All he saw, all he experienced, was Ser Marcus Brutus. The Demon Slayer.

 _Watch his hands Link!_

 _…_

 _…_

 _Iwaswrong!_

With his eyes glued to Link's, Marcus's right hand shot straight down, not across, to his hip. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his longsword and pulled the blade out and to the side, upside-down in his hand. Instead of kicking the table to move back, Marcus kicked his chair back and threw his upper body atop it while swinging his sword far and to the right.

Reacting instantly, Link's left hand shot to his weapon, lifting it up sheath and all to block the inbound attack while his right hand scooped up his half empty mug and threw it at his attacker's face.

The knight's left palm was there to stop the liquid filled projectile and protect his face. The inverted sword in his right hand passed through air, flesh, bone, flesh, air, cloth, flesh, cloth, then air until it came to an abrupt halt against Link's sheath.

A cry from the waitress who'd been slashed across the hip.

Only silence from the seated patron whose cervical spine had been severed.

Link kicked off the table and backed up to draw his steel from its damaged sheath.

Marcus slammed his palm hard against the table pushing himself over its side towards the stumbling injured girl. He rolled off the table's side and landed on his feet, dagger now in his impossibly fast hand.

"Ernie!" the girl cried as she fell against the floor. Just as the name left her mouth the formerly charming knight slammed the tip of his sword through her ribcage. For less than a quarter of a second the man left his sword planted there, held up only by shocked woman's dying body, while he reversed his grip on its hilt.

He had his primary weapon properly in his hand and up in front of him long before either the woman died or Link's feral attack began.

With his shield out of reach, still on the table, Link held his broad sword in both hands and slashed vertically aiming for the knight's clavicle.

A powerful attack but easy to deflect.

The tip of the longsword dropped below the broadswords edge then swept it up and harmlessly to the side. A perfect envelopment.

"Deem!" the bartender bellowed.

Link pulled his elbow in tight to bring the tip of his sword facing Marcus's left hand.

A smile from Ser Brutus as he feinted with his dagger then slashed with his longsword.

"You are familiar with Rangkap style," Marcus said as his slash was parried.

"Longsword and dagger," Link growled trying to maneuver to the left to keep his body between the rest of the civilians and the homicidal knight. "An unusual combination but deadly when mastered."

 _The reach of the sword provides the offensive power while the cocked dagger plugs the holes in his defense._

 _Dagger can strike out like a snake when it becomes ignored._

Link had seen this style before, but never with this sort of proficiency. Aware of what Link was doing, the knight leapt far to the right defeating Link's measured movements. A whirl of blades followed after the knight's feet.

"Everybody back!" the bouncer called as he plowed through the bar. His great-sword was one third out of its sheath.

 _Seventeen feet away._

Without his shield Link was being driven back and overwhelmed. He couldn't risk countering the longsword without the dagger sneaking past him. He was trapped on the defensive.

Each one of the Demon Slayer's attacks was powerful, swift, and accurate. His feet danced beneath him always protecting his center of balance. His hips bounced forward then backwards complimenting his lunging blade.

"You bastards!" the bouncer roared. All but the tip of the massive weapon was free.

 _Eight feet._

Marcus sensed the bouncer's proximity and pivoted on his foot meeting the massive sword inches from his head with his own longsword. The great-sword grinded down the edge of the longsword until it was harmlessly off to the side.

Deem tightened his grip on his mighty weapon and swept horizontally hoping to at least force the knight into the man in green. The knight had no intentions of being coerced anywhere.

With more grace than the bouncer could have imagined Marcus leapt over the sword, tapping it with his dagger just in case, somersaulted through the air until he was planted firmly on his feet to the side and behind Deem. The retired mercenary now found himself standing in the middle of the two troublemakers.

At first Deem wanted to resume attacking the man who had killed Beth but the knight was backing away while the man in green was advancing. He turned on Link, two-handed sword flying diagonally upwards.

Link cursed under his breath and swatted the sword aside with ease. The too long weapon neutralized to the bouncer's side Link stepped forward and brought his right knee up to his chest. Like a meteor crashing into the Earth, Link's foot collided with Deem's sternum throwing the man backwards off his feet.

The two hundred fifty pound man was in the air for 1.8 seconds. In that time Marcus took the arm off a would-be hero with a knife, Link dove to the side for his shield, and Ernest fumbled with his crossbow.

Despite the suddenness of the blow Deem managed to hit the ground and roll backwards up to his feet. He knew he was dangerously close to the knight now so he didn't bother looking for his sword, instead he drew his cudgel from his belt and spun around. Both Deem and the knight knew it was nothing but luck that placed the club in the perfect position to block the incoming longsword.

"You are in my way, my friend," Marcus said with a frown.

"I'm no friend of—" a dagger slid between his fourth and fifth rib piercing his lung. Deem's whole body seized up except his damned fingers which chose to release their grip on the bouncer's last weapon. Brutus's forehead snapped forward breaking the bouncer's jaw and sending him into unconsciousness. The blood-soaked dagger came up just in time to defend against Link's renewed attack.

"Your scabbard was secured to the chair, not your hip."

Marcus grinned. He had learned the trick from a most dishonorable military priest while he'd been tracking down Beelzebub. He knew someone of Link's caliber would appreciate the move.

Armed with his shield, and determined not to let any more innocent lives be squandered, Link's attack was brutal. His powerful legs drove him forward with each swing of his sword. When Marcus could not backup fast enough the edge of Link's shield would whip out with enough force to break bone.

Marcus tried thrusting out with his dagger but Link was prepared. He had bluffed an opening when he raised his shield a little too high while striking with his sword. In the same instant, while parrying the broadsword with his long-blade, Marcus's left hand whizzed forward. Just before the dagger was buried in the bed of flesh and guts it so loved, Link's shield crashed down atop the knight's wrist breaking more than one bone. The dagger clattered to the ground hungry and unsatisfied.

 _Too close._

Not even a grimace from Marcus. The man who had slain Hell's most dangerous denizen did not panic when the tide turned. He doubled the pace of his back-step ensuring that he maintained the advantage with the reach of his superior weapon.

Link would have closed the distance easy enough but one of the supposedly too-drunk-to-fight men had chosen to join the fray instead of retreat out the door or against the wall like everyone else.

The man barreled into Link's sword-side, shoulder first, feet clumsily driving him forward. Unwilling to skewer the drunken innocent Link had no choice but to accept the tackle and go to the ground. In the one hundred eighty degree roll Link managed to strike the drunk thrice with the hilt of his sword. The man was knocked unconscious after the second.

Marcus took advantage of the distraction immediately. He lunged forward thrusting the tip of his blade at his opponent who was still down on one knee. Link barely managed to get to his feet but was unable to plant them beneath him. He stumbled backwards frantically trying to maintain his balance and preserve his life.

The body of the bouncer finally stole his balance as he fell backwards.

He could feel the panic in his chest as he knew without a doubt that he didn't have enough time to roll backwards onto his feet before the knight ran him through. For the third time that night Link was wrong.

He made it to his feet in time to see Marcus hacking away at the arm that had reached out and grabbed his foot, robbing him of his victory. Severing the arm wasn't enough. Irate, Marcus stomped on the skull of the temporarily conscious Deem. The blow fractured the skull and splattered even more blood across the floor. The bouncer's legs spasmed and kicked as the last of his neurons fired randomly.

Marcus looked up from his fourth victim. Link was staring at him with hate and disgust.

"Why did you come this close to Hyrule?" Marcus asked slowly moving to the side.

Link squinted at the murderer. Why was he still talking? They were now the only ones left in the room besides the owner hiding beneath his counter, the unconscious man who'd tackled Link, and the man bleeding out from his arm wound.

 _Is he stalling?_

"I was in Termina to see my sick godchild," Link answered. The two were now circling each other. "My friends, Kafei and Anju, spent a fortune sending messengers after me. I just left Termina after leaving them with a miracle drug."

"Ahh, no good deed goes unpunished."

Link rotated the sword in his hand. "I guess not."

 _Thunk!_

Link stumbled backwards shocked and confused. He didn't have time to look down and see the crossbow bolt protruding from his lower chest. Marcus could see it.

Marcus knew victory was his.

* * *

"I missed."

Ernie was shaking with fear and disbelief. The evil knight that killed Beth and Deem had his back to the owner yet he had still missed. His shaking hands and frayed nerves had gotten the better of him.

The owner of the bloodied Cross Guard tavern could only stand there in shock as Marcus Brutus charged the wounded man in green, swatted his sword away, sliced the man's exposed calf, then plunged his longsword through the man's side.

The man in green, the man who had been trying to protect the patrons, the man Ernest had shot, barely let a cry escape his lips.

"This is not the ending I had expected," the knight said as he slowly pulled his blade from the man's body. The man in green leaned against the wall and allowed it to guide him to the floor. His sword was out of his reach, and his shield hung uselessly at his side.

"I wasn't. . . expecting that crossbow," the man in green managed through ragged breaths.

Marcus turned and gave Ernie a puzzled look. Ernest swallowed nervously. His legs were refusing to move, he just stood there stupidly with the empty crossbow hanging at his side.

"Neither was I." He turned back to the dying man. "I am sorry your end has to come in such an inglorious fashion." He sounded truly apologetic.

Ernest flinched when the door opened. A man in a black cloak and hood entered, bloodied sword at his side.

"His horse is dead," the man, really more of a boy, said to the knight.

The knight lifted his broken hand. "Unnecessary, Link won't be trying to escape." He tapped the man in green's shield with his sword. "You were right you know. My squire would have rushed in if you had proven too much to handle. Innocent lives and a partner. Your foresight was phenomenal."

Grief, not pain, was painted across the wounded man's face. "You. . . you killed Epona?" Ernest could see tears trickling from the man's face, getting lost in his beard.

The knight knelt just in front of his downed foe. "Your mare lived a life as noble and thrilling as your own. May you ride through the plains of the Goddesses with her."

The man in green spat into the knight's face. The squire stepped forward lifting his short sword up.

 _Why are ya still standing there Ernest?_ he asked himself.

Marcus put his hand up to stop his advancing squire.

"You know nothing of the word 'noble' Demon Slayer!" Fire burned in the dying man's eyes.

Marcus slowly brought his hand up to his face and wiped the red spittle away.

"It is a shame you would use your last breath to wound my pride. I always imagined the Hero of Time accepting Death as though he were an old friend."

"What of the bartender?" the squire asked pointing his short sword towards Ernest. The bartender's feet finally started working. He backed up, fumbling in his pocket for a second bolt.

"Master Ernie will tell everyone that Link defiled his establishment and slaughtered his patrons," Marcus stated with only a side glance at the frightened bartender. There was no question as to whether Ernest would tell the truth or not.

The squire twisted his mouth disapprovingly but made no advance towards Ernest. Marcus turned his attention back to the paling Link.

"Any desire to replace your last words with more appropriate ones?"

For a moment the man said nothing. He only lied there, gentle tears rolling down his face while his chest struggled to rise and fall.

"Would you allow me to play Epona's song one last time?" the man finally asked.

Marcus put his hand on the man's shoulder, as though they were old friends, as though he hadn't just run him through.

"I will."

With a thankful smile on his face the dying man reached into his tunic and withdrew a small blue flute. Hands shaking he brought the instrument up to his lips. His first breath failed to produce any sound at all.

"I haven't played in eighteen years," he said apologetically.

The man in green lowered the ocarina, took another pained breath, then tried again.

The most sorrowful notes Ernest had ever heard emanated from the blue instrument. The notes were powerful. Despite all the bloodshed and horror of the evening Ernest found himself closing his eyes and relaxing. The notes washed over him like a drug.

The music slowly changed as the man played it. Individual discernible notes became a myriad of sounds, musical and other wise. The old hairy man leaned back against his cabinets relishing the noise.

"Ernie!" cried Tomy, one of the regulars, "gimme a drink for my new friend here."

Ernest opened his eyes.

 _Did I doze off?_ he wondered. It wasn't like him at all to fall asleep while working. Especially not while standing. The old hairy man blinked his eyes twice and looked about his tavern. The Cross Guard was filled with the typical bustling, rough-housing, and of course drinking, as usual. Ernest glanced at his worst/best customer and his new "friend". The stranger was dressed plainly but very well groomed.

Ernest pushed off of the cabinet and reached under the bar for a bottle. "You gonna pay for this or is it goin' onta yer never-ending tab?"

Tomy pointed at Ernest and simultaneously winked while clicking his tongue. Ernest shook his head, but poured a glass for the stranger anyway. Tomy nudged his near empty glass forward ready for the expected refill.

"So what's yer name friend?" he asked, succumbing to his Tomy's prompting.

"Marcus Brutus," the man said lifting his glass to thank the generous bartender.

* * *

"Oi, yer friend 's over there, Ser Link."

Without pausing Link strode all the way up to the bartender who'd nearly killed him. He didn't bother glancing over towards his seated "friend".

"That crossbow you've got back there," Link said in his sternest voice. "Give it to me," he demanded. He set his bloodied hand on the counter to emphasize how serious he was.

The bartender's eyes doubled in size. He started to stammer something but stopped thinking better of it. With a glance over Link's shoulder the man disappeared for a second, then reappeared with the unloaded crossbow.

In one swift motion Link grabbed the cord of the weapon and ripped it away splintering the contraption. Only five nervous patrons, one bouncer, the owner, and a knight noticed.

"My horse needs oats," Link said dropping the remnants of the crossbow on the counter.

"Wh. . .which one is yers?" the owner asked in a frightened voice.

Link turned to face the knight who was still seated.

 _He has to stay seated because his scabbard is tied to his chair._

"The one with the corpse in front of it."

Before Ernest could call for Deem, warn Ser Brutus, or even leap back, Link had his sword and shield drawn and was charging at Marcus's table. He hurdled the table before Marcus's blade had left its sheath.

 _You have to kill this one, Link._

* * *

 ** _Author's Note: Well there you have it, my second completed short story. An epilogue will follow soon but it will not be anything important. I've had lots of viewers with this short story, and now that its over I would love to hear what you think. Were you disappointed by the ending? Did you envision it going a different way? Did it give you the feels? Did it bore you? Was the combat confusing? Please let me know what you think, PM or review._**

 ** _Anyway thanks for reading! Like I said, epilogue will follow later. Still working on Discouraged as my main piece, My Confession for Death as a wicked side project, and some more short stories to follow down the rode._**

 ** _Thanks! Bye!_**


	5. Epilogue

The owner and bartender, exhausted to the bone, leaned on his mop. What a disaster this night had turned out to be.

 _And it started so promising,_ he thought to himself ruefully.

His nephew lifted the overturned table upright.

"You missed some blood ova 'ere," he said indicating a small pool of ruby that had evaded the owner's swab.

With a sigh Ernest wiped the filth away. Turning to Deem he said, "You shouldn't be walkin' about. Go clean yerself up and lie down. This old man can take care o' his own place."

Deem clenched his jaw but made no move to leave. He brought his hand up and rubbed the side of his head where the warrior in green had roundhouse kicked him.

"Ya needn't feel ashamed 'bout that knight's death, it wasn't yer fault." Ernest knew his nephew was beating himself up. Unnecessary and especially unhealthy after that bearded mountain man had done more than enough beating up. "That fella in green was of a diff'rent caliber than ya."

The large man growled. "I shoulda stopped him at the door. He jus stormed in so fast. . . I didn't even see the blood on his hands til after he ruined yer crossbow."

"Only the gods are sure how he even knew it was there. I'd forgotten about it meself until he came demandin' it," Ernest said shaking his head. "What o' the body in the stables?"

Deem lowered his head and shook it. "A boy. The knight's squire from the looks o' it."

"May the Goddesses 'ave mercy on 'im."

The two cleaned in silence for a while, reflecting on the events that had just transpired. That man in green could have killed everyone in the bar if he'd wanted to. They both knew that. Why had he only killed the knight and his squire then? He let Deem and some of the lads off with bumps and bruises yet he had been vicious against the knight.

"Uncle Ernie?"

"Yea?"

"Come see this."

The tired old man meandered over to his nephew who was staring at something on the ground intently. When Ernest saw it he thought his heart would stop.

"Well I'll be," he said after a low whistle.

"You think this is part o' Tomy's tab?" Deem asked.

Slowly Ernest picked up the purse that had been missing from the knight's mutilated corpse. It was as heavy as it looked.

"You don't breathe a word o' this to that damned fool, you hear me boy? Last thing we need is 'im bringing in more o' his friends."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Like I said, nothing important (unless you consider Ernest's coffers important). This was fun to write but of course could have been better. I like short stories because they offer a snapshot of my writing ability that I can go back and look at or use to improve. No idea what the next small piece will be about (besides My Confession) but there will for sure be more. Thanks for reading!**


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